Chapter Thirty-Two
Amelia looked at Helen, waiting for her signal to open the door. Amelia felt like someone had rigged her entire body with some of that new electric lighting—she was practically vibrating with fear and adrenaline. She swallowed hard, her hand hovering just above the latch to the screen door.
Helen jerked her head in a sharp nod once. That was all the signal that Amelia needed. She snatched at the latch and shoved the door open, throwing whoever it was on the other side off balance. They stumbled backward, landing audibly with a cry.
The voice, which Amelia fully expected to be Dean’s, was in fact distinctly feminine. Confused, Amelia rounded the corner, gun still in her hand. In an instant, it was falling from her fingers with a loud clatter to the wooden floor. Sprawled in front of her on the porch was a very familiar figure.
“Ruby?” Amelia gasped, diving down to kneel by Ruby’s side. “What on earth are you doing here?”
The girl sat up, rubbing her forehead. Even in the low light, Amelia could see that her cheeks were wet. For a moment, her heart constricted at the notion that she’d caused her bodily injury.
“Oh, Amelia!” the girl wailed, and without warning, threw her arms around Amelia so suddenly that she was nearly toppled over backward. “He’s gone!”
Amelia’s blood instantly turned to ice. She pulled Ruby back by the shoulders, the girl’s body shaking with sobs and fear. “Who, Ruby? Who’s gone?”
“Logan,” someone said from the bottom of the stairs. A pudgy figure was limping up behind Ruby, clutching at his midsection and dragging a leg. It was Carter’s grandson, though his usual short suit was somewhat worse for wear. His collar was open, and his trousers sported a large tear on one leg.
“Robert?” Amelia asked in surprise. “What happened?”
“Oh, Amelia,” Ruby sobbed, her breath hiccupping in her throat.
“We were out with Robert—we were going to pick cherries—and the man, he came out of nowhere! He just grabbed Logan. He tried to grab me, but Robert—” Here, she paused and looked over her shoulder, smiling warmly through her tears.
“He rushed at the man. He was so brave! The man hit poor Walter right in the eye and shoved him down. And—and—” Ruby dissolved into wracking sobs again.
Robert stepped closer, and Amelia could see that there was indeed a bruise blooming over his right eye. “I tried to stop him, Missus, I really did,” Robert said. “He dragged Logan off. I wanted to follow, but Grandfather wouldn’t allow me.”
“You did splendidly,” Helen said reassuringly. She, too, had come out onto the porch, still holding the rifle. She let the butt of the gun rest on the porch, surveying everything with a calmness that Amelia could only envy.
Your fault! Dean stole away Logan, and it’s all your fault! her brain screeched at her like a feral animal, over and over again.
“Did the pair of you run all the way here?” Helen asked.
Ruby nodded, sniffing and wiping at her eyes. “I just took off for home. It was the only thing I could think of to do.”
Wordlessly, Amelia pulled her close again. Ruby tensed up, determined to get a grip on her emotions.
“I just don’t understand why,” Ruby said, clinging to Amelia. “Who would want to take Logan?”
“Probably someone wanting your father’s land,” Robert said solemnly. “Grandfather says those railroad types will do anything to get what they want.”
“There’s no point in speculating,” Helen said. “Which direction did they go?”
“I don’t know,” Ruby said, pulling back from Amelia. “I got all turned around in the orchard.” Her face crumpled again. “He’s going to be lost forever, and it’s all my fault!”
“No, Ruby,” Amelia said at last, finding her voice. “It’s not your fault, not one bit. You were a very brave girl, running all the way here.” She held Ruby’s face in her hands, forcing her to look her in the eye. “You are not to blame for this.”
“They went east,” Robert interjected quietly. “Probably headed up toward the ridge. Plenty of places to hide up there.”
Amelia stared at him over Ruby’s shoulder. She remembered the first time she saw him at the school recital, and how easy it had been to see only a spoiled, strange boy. Now, looking at him, Amelia could see a sort of strength hidden under the doughy exterior.
“Robert, I want you to stay here with Ruby,” Amelia instructed. “I’m charging you with keeping her safe.”
The boy puffed himself up, standing straighter. “Don’t you worry, ma’am,” he said with quiet determination. “I won’t let any harm come to her.”
“I believe you,” Amelia said. She stood and put a hand on his shoulder. “Ruby, take Robert inside and put a cold rag on that eye. I suspect it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”
Ruby struggled to her feet, her long legs trembling like a new foal’s. “What are you going to do?” she asked, searching Amelia’s face.
“It’s going to be okay,” she said.
“What?” Ruby said. She reached out for Amelia’s hand and gripped it so tightly that Amelia nearly winced. “Are you leaving? You can’t leave us!” she said.
“Just for a little while,” Amelia said, and she hoped to Heaven it was the truth. “I’m going to go find Logan before the trail is lost. Ruby, you get inside. Robert, you stay with her. Miss Monroe is going to help me get ready, and then she’s going for the sheriff.”
Amelia waited until Ruby was in the house, Robert following along behind her with as much certainty as he could muster.
Wordlessly, Helen followed Amelia as she headed for the stable. “Do you know anything about tracking?” she asked.
Amelia shook her head, her eyes fixed on the stable. She was a competent rider, but not a brilliant one, and she knew it. She could only hope that her skills were up to the task. “Do you?”
Helen shook her head too. “No; only what I’ve read in books. I can’t say I’ve ever had much call for going tracking.”
Working together, they quickly tacked up a horse, a reliable brown mare that the children rode occasionally. She hoped the beast would be even-tempered enough to compensate for her lack of riding skills.
Helen grunted as she hefted a saddle onto the mare’s back, and Amelia reached for the girth and began tightening it.
“Look for things like broken sticks, twigs, that sort of thing. Bushes with branches bent the wrong way around. I have to imagine that a man hauling a struggling boy would leave signs.”
Amelia nodded. Her jaw was clenched so tightly that she thought her teeth might break from the tension. She pulled the stirrups down the leathers, adjusting them quickly. Helen, meanwhile, had gotten the horse bridled and was throwing the reins over its head.
They’d been in such a hurry that Amelia hadn’t had time to change into a split skirt or any other sort of riding gear.
She stared at the horse and saddle for a moment, but then she was hiking her skirt up without a thought to her modesty.
Using a wooden crate to mount, she quickly tucked the skirt about her legs to protect them from chafing, not minding that her lower legs were exposed to the night air.
“Here,” Helen said, lifting her rifle up to Amelia. “You’ll need this more than I will.”
“The children—” Amelia began, but Helen held up a hand.
“They’ll be fine. We’ll get a horse hitched, and I’ll take them with me into town. Don’t worry—I’ll keep them safe.”
Amelia nodded. She hesitated only long enough to squeeze Helen’s hand in mute gratitude before she put her heels into the mare’s sides and sent her off into the night.
The moon was up, which revealed just enough of the path that Amelia could mostly see where they were going.
She’d foregone a lantern, not wanting to attract attention or give herself away.
Thankfully, she’d become familiar enough with the area around the ranch that she could find her way to Carter’s place without much trouble, and at a brisk trot, too.
Carter’s house was low and rambling, showing evidence of additions over the decades.
The lights within were blazing, throwing out squares of light onto the ground outside.
She pulled the horse up, debating her next move.
She looked about for the orchard where the children had been when Logan was taken.
“Here!” a gravelly voice called from the darkness.
Amelia tensed for a moment, but then saw that it was Carter, mounted on a horse. He had a shotgun balanced against his shoulder and the reins in his other hand. “This way,” he said, jerking his head.
He led them to the orchard, which was really just a few scraggly fruit trees growing in the dry Colorado dirt. On the ground, a basket was overturned, spilling cherries. That small detail somehow brought the reality of the situation home for Amelia.
Until this point, she’d been running on pure adrenaline, not giving herself the chance to contemplate the details or even the reality of the situation.
It was the mundaneness of the fact that they’d been doing something so innocent, so child-like, when Dean had sprung out like a wolf and snatched up Logan.
“Look for footprints,” Carter said gruffly, interrupting her.
Amelia nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
She swung down from her horse and crouched on the ground, peering at the drought-parched dirt.
“Robert said they were headed east,” she said without turning.
“There!” she cried. While collecting footprints, some strange marks appeared in the dirt.
They looked like drag marks from a pair of boots.
“I think they go this direction,” she said, walking in a crouch so she didn’t lose them.
“That’s east alright,” Carter said. “Not too many places to hide that-a-way. Likely headed up the ridge.”
Amelia nodded, ready to remount her horse.
As she started to turn away, something glinted in the moonlight, catching her eye.
She squinted, then was on her hands and knees in a flash, brushing dirt away.
It was something small and metal. She held it up in front of her eyes, and her heart skipped a beat.
“It’s one of Logan’s soldiers!” she called. She turned it around and thrust it in Carter’s direction, even though she suspected his eyesight wouldn’t permit him to see it at such a distance.
“Smart boy,” Carter grunted. “Keep an eye out for more. Maybe the lad left us a trail.”
Amelia nodded, tears stinging her eyes. She cradled the soldier as if it were made of gold or glass, pressing it against her heart. “This is all my fault,” she whispered.
“Enough of that,” Carter barked. “Get it together, woman—this is no time to fall to pieces.”
Amelia looked up and could see Carter’s hardened face, the lines etched by time and a cantankerous mood alike. His eyes, nearly closed from years in the sun and poor eyesight, glared back at her, fairly daring her to answer back.
He wasn’t always like this, Amelia realized suddenly. He’s made himself into a piece of granite to survive. What does this place do to all of us?
Amelia shook her head hard. She set her own mouth into a hard line and returned to her horse.
After a bit of scrambling, she managed to heave herself back up into the saddle, her skirt and petticoat tucked around her legs again.
Carter cast a disapproving look at her legs, but taking a leaf from his book, she glared right back at him.
He didn’t say anything, merely clucked to his horse.
Together, they moved off into the darkening night.
Amelia kept her eyes fixed ahead, scanning the ground for any more of Logan’s little soldiers.
Carter was a silent companion, only speaking when it was absolutely necessary.
Though Amelia had a newfound respect for his determination, her heart ached for a different companion.
Where are you, Cody?